That afternoon Georgia called Ellie Foreman. She’d been mulling over an idea, but she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. Ellie would have an opinion.
“Hey, Ellie. Georgia here.”
Georgia. How nice to hear from you. Anything new on the death of Susan’s aunt?”
Georgia hesitated for a moment. “It’s complicated.” She went on. “The more I learn the more questions I have.”
“Any that I could answer?”
“You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“So here’s the deal. It turns out that the Covid vaccine is much more—um—I guess the word is ‘delicate’ than I imagined. Any deviation in the way it’s manufactured, distributed, or administered can contaminate it.”
“For example…”
“Well, you’ve heard that it has to be shipped frozen. Pfizer ships at something like twenty below zero. Moderna’s temperature is a little less cold, but still two or three below. They’ve got these Bluetooth monitors in most of the cartons that measure the temperature, and if it goes up too much—I don’t know the actual degrees—they have to throw the whole lot out.”
“How many vials are in a lot? You hear them talk about doses, but not vials.”
“That’s true. And it’s strange. Lot numbers aren’t readily available. But I read something that talked about having to destroy an entire lot of nearly 350,000 vials, so I’m guessing a lot could be as large as half a million vials.”
“Not peanuts.”
“Right. Some vials have to be thrown out because they’re not cold enough. Others break or leak during shipping. Still others, because the manufacturers belatedly discover some element they added to the vaccine wasn’t sterile or pure enough.”
“So what you’re saying is…”
“There are a shitload of reasons why someone could have an adverse reaction to the vaccine. Sure, it might be their immune system or allergies, but it could also be because of the problems I just explained. Bottom line, in the case of Evelyn’s sister, we’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Got it. If that’s it—and I suppose it is—you need to tell Susan’s mother.”
“I will. But there’s one thing that bothers me.”
“What’s that?”
“I may be grasping for straws, you know? And I don’t want her to think I’m just trying to jack up my fee, but—”
“I’ll vouch for you, you know that.”
“That’s not it. All the issues about contamination, or breakage, or whatever it is, they usually happen to hundreds, if not thousands of vials in an allotment. What we’re dealing with are just three vials. Actually, three doses in two different vials.”
“Which is unusual?”
“Hell, my mother would say it’s as rare as tits on a bull. It doesn’t seem logical. If the glass of a vial shattered in transit, wouldn’t there be at least a dozen broken vials? Three doses in two bad vials separated by two days makes no sense.”
“What are you saying, Georgia?”
“I want to find out more about the specific lot those three doses were in. How was it made, shipped, and injected? For example, did you know that people on site have to dilute the vaccine with sterile water and extract just the right amount into syringes? If someone goofs and the water isn’t sterile, that could affect all the doses in a vial. Which could mean problems with patients. But that didn’t happen here. So I need to find out what did happen.”
“You’re beginning to sound like an anti-vaxxer, my friend.”
“Hey. I’m all vaxxed up. Even got a booster.” Georgia cleared her throat “But that’s not why I’m calling. Here’s the thing. Remember a few years ago when I impersonated a social worker and got caught?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ellie laughed. “That wasn’t your finest hour.”
“You’re telling me. Well, the lot that came to Northglen was made in Kalamazoo. I could drive up there and claim to be a journalist writing an article about unappreciated Covid heroes. Truckers really are the unsung heroes of the vaccine effort, you know. They have to make sure the vaccine is as pure as the day it was manufactured. And, from what I’ve read, for the most part they do.” She paused. “Anyway, if I play it right, I might be able to find out something about that particular lot.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Yeah, except I’m not a journalist. If they discover that, my credibility is shot. Do you have any tips? What do I need to know? I’m thinking I’ll tell them I’m writing a—what do you call it?”
“A puff piece?”
“Right. Exactly.”
Ellie was quiet for a moment. “This’ll be a slam dunk for you, Georgia. It’s not much different than the questions you’d ask as a PI.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, except you need to be warm and friendly. Smile a lot. Show them you’re not out to get them. Tell them you’re there to write a complimentary article. By the way, I love the unsung hero pitch. But don’t interrogate them. Just ask benign questions. They’ll open up like lotus blossoms.”
“Lotus blossoms?”
“Aren’t they the ones that open at night and close up again the next morning?”
“No clue.” At times Ellie came up with weird analogies. “I guess I’m a little gun shy.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Georgia hesitated. “No. But if you have any other pointers, I’m all ears.”
Ellie laughed. “Sure. For starters, take a pad and a pen, and record the whole thing on your iPhone.”
The next morning, armed with Ellie’s version of journalism 101, Georgia dressed in her traditional “uniform.” Instead of her Baby Glock, though, she dumped a steno pad, pen, and her iPhone into them. With luck she’d get to Kalamazoo by noon.
She passed Jefferson Medical’s corporate headquarters outside Kalamazoo just past noon. Like the hospital where Dr. Blackstone worked, Jefferson Medical’s shiny white buildings—there were two in a backward L-shaped arrangement—squatted by themselves on a stretch of otherwise empty prairie. A few ducks and geese paddled around a manmade lake in front. Was that to reassure visitors that Jefferson Medical was one of the good guys? Big pharma dedicated to improving the lot of man, beast, even the climate?
She drove around to the side of the L and saw three loading docks spaced along the length of the building. A few semis were parked near the docks, but there were no people in sight. She circled the lot, exited the way she came, and a block later saw a one-story building around the corner. Neon signs for Bud and Miller glowed in the window.
Bingo. She smiled and parked her Toyota.